Looking out the window from the highest floor in the building,

Nighttime lights setting the rain soaked street a gleaming, little puddles are sparking as the reflective light bounces off the in a calming white hue.

Watching the cars and people going on by, keen to stay out of the rain and get dry

It cannot be helped if the sky has decided to have a good cry.

The window makes a good distraction from the indecision ruling heart and head, keeping everything at bay, like it went for a vacation instead.

Fingers tapping on the half filled mug of tea, the aroma and steam adds a calming fuel to an overworked brain, nobody ever said this would be such an energy drain.

Indecision has got some skilful precision in how it dominates and rules, making us distracted to the point we feel like fools.

Looking out of the window, sitting crossed legged on the floor, a blanket as the cushion for my seat, it’s all silent and discrete, minus the traffic outside, a thing that is my city’s pride.

The indecision carries on, ticking away in the mind, flip a coin or pick a card, the options are there, it should not been that hard.

The reflection through the window, gets the curiousity going again, to go with the heart, and let the brain take it easy for a change, but it’s the brain that protects us from our hearts getting in trouble when reason goes out of the window.

In the ways there are only two, and even that seems like too much to handle when it comes to the solution, the answer to question that won’t go away, spending so much time leading the mind astray. 

The raindrops on the window continue to trickle down, reflecting the city lights as they go, at least they know the set direction of their flow.

Heart ruling the brain, and brain ruling the heart, if only someone could take this decision and let the responsibility depart.

All this indecision and the need for clarity mixed with precision.

Yet here I will sit, contemplating which path to take, watching the world go by through the rain soaked window in a temporary bid to escape. 


Which way to go…

Remember a day filled with unknown nerves

Those little tingles in the abdomen that would distract us from duties and demands

Like the head of an military base, sending our emotions into a battle whilst looking in the mirror, sharpen decisions swinging to and fro, not knowing which way to go.

They would clash together and the sound was something quite profound, the impact so very loud without even making a sound.

The concrete beneath my feet felt like it was about to disintergrate, each and every breath filled with too much to antispate, and the mind constantly debating between decisions to and fro, not knowing which way to go.

From the front door to the campus halls, only one examination to go, but the mind has already departed, to the playground with the swinging penedulum where decisions reside, going to and fro not knowing which way to go.

Clock stricks five in the afternoon, the darkness of the night is looming over the day, the moon on its’ way.

There is no time to delay, a decision has been made to avoid it all, yet still not knowing which way to go.

From the bus station stop to the platform of a train station or two, miles away from home already, smooth and steady, no time to get ready.

Change stations and reach a cross in the heart of a city escape, the sights and sounds surrounding as the decisions one or two continue to battle to and fro, not knowing which way to go.

The walking turns to running, passed the people and the cars, passed the billboards and the tempting glowing lights, oh what a sight.

Up and down the streets, going to and fro, still not knowing which way to go

Perhaps the decision was best to just not to go, nothing will be missed and it shall all be a lonesome affair filled

Turn away or go through it all the way, to and fro, not knowing which way to go

A glance at the phone that glows with a guiding map and reveals an unexpected sight

Indescision swinging to and fro, knowing exactly which way to go

Steps turn into sprints, through the bustling crowds and revolving doors, not knowing which way to go

Up the stairs, unaware and ill-prepared, a coat trailing on the floor 

It’s all for a good cause that will be worth it all

Grab the door handles and swing them open and closed, the time has come it has been supposed

The room is found but all the lights have gone out, look around but there is only blackness to be found, not a whisper or a sound

Mind is reeling, decisions swinging to and fro, not knowing which way to go
The grab of a hand and sudden motion of turning around, to the only way that could ever be decided, like a breath without end, as you say those three words that make the indecisions all disappear, forgotten because of your whisper of “I am here”.

And finally the time has come to know exactly which way to go.

Just sitting 

Just sitting on the floor

Hairdryer fill up the room with a warming roar

All is dark minus a single candle’s light 

Got a prose set a drift in the mind for company 

Like a literary calculator ready to solve the equation 

And give the subconscious a rest for a minute or three

Just sitting on the floor

Same song on repeat without even being discreet summons those thoughts and memories 

Like a temporary spell of amnesia, forgetting what I was doing or who was calling

The hairdryer is still roaring, only source of something warming

Whilst all the while thoughts are set adrift with the puzzles and the prose

All of which arose in the midst of a mind’s repose

Trying to figure out when it all commenced

Looking for a metaphor to end the sentence while all the while,

The carpet makes a good seat as the song continues on repeat 
Candlelight shining bright, keeping these thoughts in sight

As the prose flows around without a single sound

To serve a purpose and solve the puzzle 

Like a literary calculator or an artist’s defibrillator 

Kickstart the heart and set the memories apart, get set to depart

Just sitting on the floor as the clock stricks the lateness of the hour

Just look at how much life these thoughts do devour

Scrambling to the feet, keeping steady on the ground beneath our feet

Kill the hairdryer and extinguish the light, but keep the song playing just till the end 

It’s a guide to bring this puzzle to an end

The prose will show it all, going wistfully to open the door, to find you just sitting outside 

On the floor

And suddenly the puzzle becomes no more, because you were the answer after all….

The Snow is Falling

The snow is falling, setting a picturesque scene of a cold paradise

Every crack concealed in sparkling white, setting the eyes to delight at the sight
The midday sun hovers over the hills and trees once green, a luxury to be seen
Everything set a glow in a wintery haze set to amaze and cause peace and chaos
So much fuss and much to discuss, plans changed and agendas rearranged
The snow is falling, the tree branches bow in honor and respect, as though in anticipation
Of more to come, for this cannot be the end to winter’s enchantment
The weight is heavy over the fragile floor
Nothing more to uphold
Amongst the grumples and celebrations, of plans changed and agendas rearranged
Comes something rather strange, impossible to engage, the movements come quick and fast
Surely it is not something that will last
The snow is falling from the trees, cascading upon the shivering ground as the mountain tops quiver No sight or sounds surround what will become impossible to predict, like that of a wicked trick
The ground shivers and shakes
All falls silent and still awaiting the inevitable cascade of winter to fall from those hills
The knees of a town shiver and shake, oblivious to what has taken place
All is quiet and all is still
The snow is falling over the newly formed hills, concealing the aftermath of the once dancing ground
Profound and precise, nobody and nothing could have predicted, the stage that set the hills and Grounds to shake, a tumultuous act of nature or perhaps it was fate
Not unknown to these parts, and yet so quickly all begins to fall apart
And yet the snow is falling
Quiet and still
Unseen sights concealed in winter’s might, out of the way from protection, rescue or salvation.
The sun fades behind the clouds no longer glowing and proud
The snow is falling on the ground
And nobody is making a sound
Apart from one soul hidden far away
Tucked beneath a quintessential hillside in a village
Known to many and yet not seen often
On his travels in the sky
Taking flight when the need arises
Yet during the chaos of a nature’s demise
It is he that rises in the aftermath to alert and raise awareness of what has been done
For this is no time for foolishness and fun
The snow is falling on the ground
Yet the unseen figure, quiet and small, is up making the only sound
The rescuers come
The people begin to hear
And all commence in  clearing away what winter has done
Soon the silence will be broken as the survivors began to cheer
Have no fear, the unseen soul, quiet and small, is hear to listen and clear away
All that winter has brought on this cold January day.

Let the Sun reign down

Let the sun reign down 

Erase all that was once a cause to frown.

For as long as he is in town.

What need can there be to wallow in misery or endless pity. 

Let the sun reign down

Cast aside thunderous clouds that dared to dwell, for now there is a means to repel. 

Let the sun reign down

Warming showers of light – these simple distraction, not minute in fraction, serves to disturb the melancholy from its’ depth.

Let the sun reign down 

Tell a story filled with intrigue so profound it will set the astound with a resonance so deep, not even the mightiest of deflation could see it at defeats’ door, some crumpled heap upon the floor. 

Let the sun reign down 

Oh, to be lost in something to worship and adore, whose’s presence leaves many in awe with the simplest of ways.

Let the sun reign down 

The goodness remains so long as he is around, a figure quite profound, set to astound or else sparks wonders of mystery, the need for quintessential liberty.

Let the sun reign down, and let us escape to a place where nobody can be found. 



What is in such a specimen of Power and presence, committed to Making an everlasting resonance With such electricity and might, a Combination aimed at darkness or light. 


Only so many words can be said, to Create an earthquake, leaving us All to shiver and shake, enchanted By this haze within life’s colorful Maze where no guides reside to aid In sudden escapes or means of Remedying adrenalines’ need to Be fed. 


Where circumstances leave you Lying awake in bed till the dawn, Exhausted and forlorn with Dreams left tattered and torn, Upon the floor you lie to rest for a Minute is all you can manage at Best, how else to pass this test.


Signals flash and glow as all the Traffic slows, time stops in the Wake of frustration’s growth           To prompt haste like the hands of An aphrodisiac around your waist Oh, how sweet does recklessness taste? 


Enough has been said and still There is dread, like that of a needle Slipping on silken thread in the Fabric of life’s creation – no chance to stop in hesitation – or cry over some minute devastation. 


Preparation is complete as at last You conquer all that should’ve Defeated, no miraculous events needed, for now you have succeeded, and time has heeded. All this and more in the wake of The color red. 

Street lights 

Street lights flicker and grown Illuminating the cobbled streets I Have walked down many times Before with eager eyes ready to Explore all the mysteries & Wonders, igniting much to ponder.
Street lights shine dimly bright in The wake of a sleepy sun’s light That once set oceans a sparkle of Sapphires, a sight of pure delight As the gentle winds set the palm Trees in motion, one of nature’s commotions. 

Street lights by houses of cream and white, each brick with a story to tell, the mysteries the region’s seas or else the forest and mountains surrounding high above.

Street lights scattered or in a line, perfectly arranged in a memorable shrine.  The clock in the town square tower, a majestic presence for all to stare and be made aware of such Treasures only a place like this could share. One in particular ignited the fire and pride.

Street lights twinkle as the town comes to life, come rain or shine, Nothing will be as much of a paradise as here, with little or nothing to fear.

No matter how life may be or the levels to which one may be free, one place will remain an elysium of serenity. The one and only that is Abruzzo, a place where all visitors’ heart belong to thee.